


Trader

by Dawn_twilight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-27
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-06 02:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_twilight/pseuds/Dawn_twilight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to save a little girl from a different kind of evil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trader

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first SN story. I’ve written in The Sentinel fandom and dabbled in Criminal Minds and a few others, but I’m loving Supernatural. I kept seeing a request for fic that includes Sam with back pain/back problems and thought, I can do that. Enjoy.

A persistent pain pulsed between his shoulder blades as he sat hunched against the wood paneled wall. Both knees ached and he was pretty sure that a few toes on his right foot, maybe even his ankle were broken. 

The thick toe box of his boots hadn’t protected him from the solid walnut bookcase that had been flung at him, doubling him in half and coming to rest over his lower legs and feet. 

Now he questioned the plan to split up and search for Sara Sumners, a little girl missing for just three days. After looking over the main house, Sam had headed upstairs as Dean had gone down to the basement for another look.

He pushed with all his strength, straining against the downed shelf, but he wasn’t able to budge it, finding no leverage to lift it off him.

“Dean!” He called. “Dean…I need help, man.”

The room was cast in shadow, moonlight spilled in the open drapes of the windows and his flashlight still spun on the hardwood floor a few feet away, sending blades of light into the dark corners, finally coming to rest and pointing toward the far wall.

Eventually he had heard Dean screaming his name from another part of the house, telling him that he was coming to get him, and Sam could hear feet pounding along the lower level and up the rickety steps at the back of the house. 

The bedroom he was in still had all the furnishings, most covered with sheets, ghostly apparitions everywhere he looked, but they hadn’t been able to find any energy signatures, the missing girl or the hidden entrances that supposedly lead to a maze of tunnels under the grounds of the property. 

Earlier in the day, before the sun had gone down, Sam had been tucked away in the local library, while Dean had gone to talk to some friends and neighbors of the family.

They had come up with a working theory that the entity that inhabited the Sumners estate was Seth Sumners, the wealthy patriarch of the family homestead, born over a hundred fifty years ago. A dentist by trade, he practiced out of this house. A slave runner and bigot at heart, he treated the people he trafficked like they were property, like they weren’t even human.

The house had stayed in the family and Seth Sumners had died eighty five years previous, peacefully in his sleep. There hadn’t been any activity until about fifty years ago when Jeremy Sumners had married outside his own race.

He wed a local farm girl, Shirley, with his parents blessing. Apparently the Sumners offspring hadn’t shared his ideas about class and cultures, probably not even aware of how the family had made its fortune. 

And there was no record of old Seth’s burial, but Sam figured he might be on the property. A small cemetery was licensed for the plot of land, but they hadn’t found any markers or memorials when they had searched the grounds just after dusk.

“Dean?” Sam called again, wondering what the hell was taking so long. He was losing the feeling in his legs and didn’t know if that was a good thing. The pain was subsiding, but did that mean he had hurt himself more than he had thought? 

“I’m here, Sammy. Just hang tight. You hurt?” His brother’s muffled voice came through the wooden door of the master suite. This was Seth’s room originally, this was where one of the tunnel entrances should have been, an escape hatch incase old Seth needed to make a quick getaway.

“No,” he rasped. “Just a little stuck.”

“Riiight.” Some scrapping noises were followed by a few choice swear words. “Come on, damnit.” 

Sam wasn’t overly concerned, but he couldn’t help asking, “what?”

“Can’t get the door to budge. I can turn the handle.” And to prove that he could, Sam heard the knob turning back and forth. “Feels like something is lodged against it.” 

Sam craned his neck, looking over his shoulder toward the direction of the door, but he couldn’t tell if anything was blocking it. The faint light hadn’t reached that far and he remembered a partition wall that would have obstructed his view.

Soon the sound of Dean’s body slamming into the door filled the room and Sam was pretty sure there was some frustrated kicking too. “I’m gonna have to see if I can get you out another way.” Dean finally admitted defeat. “Maybe the window?” 

Sam twisted his body again, feeling fresh pain in his lower back, settling toward his hips, probably from sitting at a weird angle to the wall. “I don’t know.” Sam said, stifling the deepening pain. “This thing is still out there…” he hissed between clenched teeth. “…and the girl. We need to find the girl, Dean.” 

“The girl can wait.” Dean’s voice was sharp, full of authority, a lot like their dad’s. “We don’t even know if she’s alive.”

And that was why Dean needed to find her first and fast. 

Sara’s grandmother’s body had shown signs of dehydration and open sores that looked like bite marks. 

The twenty year old coroner report said the cause of death had been suffocation, oxygen deprivation. And her mother’s body hadn’t ever been found. Her husband had reported his wife missing five years ago, but the police had thought they had some evidence that she might have just left him and her little girl to start a new life somewhere without them. 

Seth Sumners seemed to have been exacting revenge on those he perceived had spoiled his bloodline. 

“We need to find her, Dean.” Sam bucked against the weight that held him down. “She’s just a little girl.”

He could almost imagine Dean weighing the options, considering the best course of action, working out a plan and a backup before answering Sam. “You got any ideas, I’m all ears.”

Laughing to himself, he tried to push up a little, relieve some of the pressure on his back. “I ah…I was thinking that if you can find the bastards bones and burn ‘em, it might release the door. We might even be able to see the tunnel entrances if it’s his power that are hiding them. She’s gotta be down there somewhere. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

And he knew it could be a long shot. Could be that she was locked away anywhere, but Sam was pretty confident that the tunnels were key.

“All right dude.” Dean replied, sounding sure. “I’ll look over the grounds again; see if I can find anything. How you holding up?”

Sam knew he was asking about his hurts and it wouldn’t help to lie. Dean could see through him, read him so well it was a little scary. “I ah…I’m doing okay. I’ve got a bookcase across my lap, but I don’t think there’s any serious damage.” 

A brief silence was followed by, “You got your gun?”

Technically, yes. It was in the room with him, off to his left, just out of reach. “Yeah Dean…I’m good…just go and be careful.”

“Right back at ya.” And then the footsteps faded away and he was alone.

Once Seth was a crispy pile of bones, he should be able to lift the bookcase. Hopefully be able to find the tunnels and Sara. 

He needed to save her.

Had looked into her father’s eyes and promised that he would.

Dean had just given him a strange look, but kept quiet about it, knowing that Sam was the one that felt things a little deeper, more than him, more than their dad. 

It wasn’t all about the hunt or killing the evil out there, even though those things were deeply important to him too. But he tended to dwell more on the victims, related a little more to their pain, their loss.” 

Maybe fifteen minutes had passed when the temperature started to drop. 

_Dean must be getting close._

He could see his breath in the beams of the flashlight, shivering as the cold seeped into his bones.

The wall behind him began to vibrate and then Sam was falling backwards, the weight on his legs lifting as he was cast into the darkness below. 

Things gouged into tender body parts as he tumbled down, his rib cage, his breast bone, the small of his back, his head…legs and arms scrambling for purchase, trying to slow his descent and then he hit bottom, jarring every bone in is body, forcing the air out of his lungs and locking them tight. 

He looked up dazed toward the soft light above and saw the decaying steps, pieces of rotting wood jutting out at weird angles and then his vision dimmed. 

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move…

“Mister, are you okay?” Tiny hands patted his face and back, a little body loomed close, crouched down and trembling. “Please Mister...he’ll be back…please don’t leave me.”

Sam couldn’t quite bring her into focus, yet he wanted to comfort her. “Sara?” he wheezed, trying to breathe in deep enough to fill his lungs. “It’s okay.”

“No…no, no, no…the trader will be coming again, Mister.” She scrambled up and over him, dropping down to her knees in front of him. “We gotta get out like Mama says, Mister. And I can’t push the door.”

Sam was trying hard to follow what she was saying, but something wasn’t computing and now that the shock of his fall was wearing off, he was full of blossoming pain. “You’re Mama?”

“Come on, Mister. Get up, get up!” She pulled at him, yanking at his arm.

Slowly he levered himself up to his elbow, his head spinning, but he pushed up, getting his ass under him to sit, leaning forward and cradling his head in his hand. 

_Had Sara seen the ghost of her mother?_

“A little help would be nice, " he mumbled, still feeling little hands pulling at him. “Okay, okay Sara. Just give me a minute, okay?”

“’Kay…You need something to drink…I’ll get you some.” She moved away and Sam was stunned to see she carried a little flashlight. 

When he looked after her, lifting his head a little he could see a dim light coming from farther down the tunnel. She hurried around the corner and came back with a sealed bottle of water.

“Here Mister…drink this so we can go.”

_What the hell?_

He uncapped the water bottle, taking a tiny swig, feeling it slide down his throat and hitting his stomach. It hurt and he worried that maybe he shouldn’t be drinking anything for awhile. 

“Where did you…where did you get this, Sara?” He asked, trying to get his feet under him.

“The trader. And he’ll be back soon. Mama said I had to get out fast as I can.”

He stood on wobbly legs, leaning against the stone wall of the hidden hall. Then he took a tiny step. Pain lanced up his right leg and he nearly crumbled back to the floor. He didn’t think his ankle was broken now, but definitely sprained. 

He knew he should tie his boot laces a little tighter, try to keep the swelling down as mush as possible, but he had to figure out what the hell was going on here first. Had to find Dean and get out of this place.

He shuffled along, following the little girl to the dim light and found a room with a battery operated lamp and cot. There was a cooler and a little pink stuffed poodle sitting on a little camp chair.

She grabbed her toy, swinging the flashlight down the hall in the opposite direction from which they had come. 

Sam had the forethought to pull out his cell phone, but there was no reception. The screen flashed on, turning the hallway blue for a brief second and then the display read one missed call. “Dean.”

There was no way of knowing what his brother had wanted to tell him, but Sam was hoping he could shed some light on what the hell was happening once they found their way out of the underground tunnels.

More alcoves and intersecting halls lined the tunnel, but Sara stayed straight, then turned like she knew where she was going. 

Sam stumbled along behind her, finding it harder and harder to breathe, to keep up with his five year old guide. 

“This way, hurry Mister.”

He lost sight of her as she turned a bend and then she cried out. Sam hurried as best he could, his back a huge bundle of nerve endings firing with each jolting step. 

He came around the corner in time to see a man grab up the girl.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, “Let her go.” His fingers itched for his sawed off shotgun, but he was totally caught off guard as a gun was raised and pointed at him. 

_Not a ghost!_ his mind supplied and then he dropped to the ground, grunting in pain as a bullet whizzed by his head.

The guy took off running as Sam pulled himself up, feeling the air thin and cool around him. He moved along the hallway as quietly as he could, trying to keep the man and the crying child in sight. Up ahead a charge of electricity sizzled and the guy slowed, looking perplexed. 

A woman materialized a few feet in front of him and Sara called out, “Mama.”

“What the hell!” the man screamed and Sam whole heartily agreed with that assessment.

The ghost was clearly not Sara’s mother. She was older looking, her dress not right for the modern era. He couldn’t make out the wheezing, hissing words that fell from the unnatural bend of her mouth, but the guy backed up, putting the little girl to the floor. The woman charged then and the guy tucked tail and ran, trying to get as much distance as he could between them. 

Suddenly a shot rang out and the spirit dissipated into a hundred fragments.

“Dean?” His brother came around the corner raising his gun to bear and firing off another shot. 

“Get the girl out.” His brother’s eyes scanned him, a frown turned down the corners of his mouth and then he said, “Straight ahead. Hurry.”

Sam hobbled forward, grabbing up the girl who wrapped her body around him, legs and arms entwining him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Sam saw the opening ahead, the early dawn meeting him as he stepped out of the tunnel and into the surrounding woods. He looked left and then right, and then decided on straight ahead and as far away from the tunnel as he could. 

More shotgun blasts reverberated from within and as Sam was turning back, hoping to see his brother, the man that had grabbed Sara stumbled out and collapsed a few feet from the opening. A blast of pure energy followed, dissipating as soon as it hit the early morning air. 

And then Dean came out, his gun pointed down, but still tense. He stopped by the guy, feeling for a pulse, and then stood. He moved fast toward Sam and that’s when he realized he was swaying, the burst of adrenalin coursing through his veins fading fast.

Dean grabbed his arm. “Whoa, easy,” helping his descent to the mossy grass below. “I got ya.”

Sam nodded, closing his eyes to stop the spinning, still clinging to the little girl.

“You okay?” Dean asked and he lifted his head.

Sara stopped hugging him and started to pat his chest. “Thank you, mister. I didn’t want the trader to get me.”

He nodded, not really sure what she was saying, but she beamed a beautiful smile at him, her dark eyes huge, a smudge of ancient dirt over her cheek.

“Sara! Sara!” She turned to the sound of the new voice, taking off, her little yellow sundress bright against the greens of the woods.

“Papa!” She ran up a little incline and launched herself at her father. “That man found me, saved me from the trader and, and Mama helped too!”

Sam couldn’t hear anymore of what was said, partly because they were moving away toward a clearing and partly because of the ringing in his ears. And then the ringing was joined by sirens. “Ah…Dean?”

“Let’s get you back to the car, Sammy.”

He nodded, trusting his brother to get him there, trusting him to fill in some of the holes of the whole situation.

The walk took longer then he thought, they seemed to be traveling around the property line and toward the north. The sirens were louder now, but Dean had parked the car in a concealed spot the night before, so no one should see them.

He tripped over a tree branch, going down hard on his knees and he couldn’t help the sound that passed over his lips.

“Dude, you okay?” 

He nodded, not brushing off the hand that appeared at his elbow.

“You’re wobbling more than when you have a couple of those fancy assed drinks you like.”

Sam didn’t answer, knew it was Dean’s way of acknowledging he was hurting and in true Winchester fashion, not mentioning the real problem.

Besides, they both knew his liquor of choice was whiskey.

“Dean,” he asked, mostly to take his mind off picking his feet up. “What the hell was going on back there?”

The car came into view and Sam was never so relieved to see the shining black paint job gleam in the sun. 

“I’ll tell you all about it after when we’re sure your brain isn’t scrambled.”

Dean opened the door for him, actually putting his hand on top of Sam’s head and guiding him down and in. He folded his long legs into the space in front of him, wincing as he worked his ankle. 

Before he could shut the door, Dean leaned in and grabbed the laces of his boots, pulling them tight and retied them. 

Once behind the wheel, his brother guided the car down the hill and onto the old dirt road that abutted the property. They passed a patchy piece of grass on the right and Sam could see the disturbed dirt. “Really dude, what is going on?”

Dean looked at him briefly, rolled his eyes, and then looked back to the road. A few hundred feet ahead they turned onto a paved street and Dean picked up speed. “Now I know something is wrong with your head.”

“What?” 

“Nothing. Bobby told me about a little free clinic a few towns over. We’ll get you looked at and then I’ll explain everything, okay?”

“Bobby?”

Another eye roll, but Sam could see the concern under the gesture. 

“Yeah, Bobby. About so tall,” He lifted his hand just below his own forehead. “Got a pot belly, but one hell of a right hook. You know, owns a salvage yard and we’ve only known him, I don’t know, fifteen years.”

“Oh.”

“So, besides the ankle…what else is bothering you? We need to get our story straight.”

_How about everything?_

“It’s nothing a hot shower won’t fix…I don’t need to see anyone, Dean.”

“Uh huh…so tell me how you got down into the tunnels?”

“Oh…I ah…I fell down the steps.”

“Fell Sammy?”

“Okay, Dean…whatever.”

Dean’s smug grin would normally set Sam off, but not this time. This time he thought he might need to see someone. 

The rest if the ride was agony. He hurt from so many places he couldn’t even tell where all the conflicting input was coming from, but one thing was for sure, besides his aching ankle, his back was on fire.

Within an hour, they pulled into the little town, if you could call one stop light, a gas station and a post office a town. The clinic was down a side street, the building small and a little shabby.

No one was in the waiting room, but a little bell jingled as Dean opened the door for them and a young man came from the back room. “Can I help you guys?” He was tall, but not as tall as Sam with spiked hair and tattoos up and down his arms, one snaking up and over his neck.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “My friend here took a tumble down some steps and we just want to be sure everything is ok.”

The guy looked from Dean to Sam, probably trying to decide if they were being truthful. Even though the clinic was small and in a small town, they were only an hour and half from Baltimore city and judging by the literature on the walls, it seemed like maybe they got more business than Sam first thought. 

“Okay, guys. I’m Lukas, a medical assistant…you can come on back.” 

“I’m Dean and this is Sam.”

The guy shook there hands and then he handed Sam a flimsy hospital gown and he supposed it was better than those paper ones at most doctor’s offices.

“Just get all the way undressed and I’ll be back in a minute. Dean can wait in the waiting room down the hall if you want, Sam.” 

“Kay…thanks.” He stood still for a second, feeling stiffer by the minute, knowing that his muscles were tightening and he was gonna feel like hell in the morning. 

“You want me to ah…” his brother hitched his thumb over his shoulder toward the room that Lukas had pointed out, a weird look on his face. 

It wasn’t like he was shy with his body. Dean had seen him naked before, dressing wounds, hell the guy used to change his diaper. 

“You can stay,” he told Dean, sinking into the only chair along the far wall, bending to untie his boot laces. 

“’Kay, I’m gonna give you a minute.” And then his brother was gone, pulling his cell from his jean pocket, calling who knows who. Maybe Bobby, since he was the one who turned them onto this hunt to begin with.

A small radio was playing in the other room; soft rock was interrupted by a news bulletin as Sam shimmied out of his jeans and layers of shirts. He kicked off his boxers and tossed them on the pile of clothes he left in the chair, carefully climbing onto the exam table as the reporter spoke of a local kidnapping.

_It has been reported that young Sara Sumners, the daughter of the engineer Kyle Sumners, has been recovered from her would be kidnapper early this morning._

_Police will only confirm that her father was contacted late last night with demands for an undisclosed sum of cash and directed to make the trade at the Sumners family home early this morning._

_It is unclear how the daughter escaped her kidnapper. Thirty nine year old Lee Perkins was found dead at the scene. An autopsy will be preformed to determine the cause of death later this week._

_Police have asked if you any information on this case to please contact the hotline number at 1 800 55…_

Sam stopped listening after that, already fitting the pieces together, shifting back to lean his achy body against the cool wall behind him.

_A money trade at the Sumners home, a trade…the trader that Sara was so scared of…was just a man._

Real evil existed out there and sometimes it was a shocking reminder that it wasn’t always the things that go bump in the night.

At some point he had closed his eyes, hearing Dean enter, knowing instinctively that it was his brother that occupied the room with him. 

A little after that Lucas asked, “You ready for me to take a look, Sam?”

He nodded his head, having a hard time opening his eyes. He could tell his body was shaking, just a little, fine tremors ran the length of his arms and legs and he felt chilled.

“Let’s get you lying down and under some blankets. I can get your blood pressure and heart rate lying down.” Two sets of hands supported his arms, his back. His body was carefully turned as his legs were lifted. Dean cupped his head until it hit the thin pillow, then he moved away to lean against the door jam, giving Sam some privacy but still within ear shot. 

The blankets were arranged around him but he was still cold.

Something tight wrapped around his arm and began to squeeze, but he didn’t bother to look. Something cold pressed against his chest but it was removed pretty quickly. 

“Does something hurt more?” Lukas asked, pulling on a set of purple gloves and folding the blanket back. He lifted up Sam’s gown, bunching it around his neck and arm pits, exposing his chest and stomach. “You sure got the hell beat out of ya…I’m just gonna feel around a little. Tell me if something hurts.”

Sam nodded, feeling a touch near his navel and he couldn’t help but jump a little.

“Sorry, sorry.” The hands moved in steady circles around his belly, finding a few tender spots, but nothing that was unmanageable, then dipped lower to press into the bone of his pelvis, which hurt, but not even as bad as his stomach. “Just slide your leg over a little.” And then he was touched somewhere he hadn’t been touched in a long time, but the man was quick and efficient, pulling the blanket up a little when he was finished.

Each rib was felt, palpated and Sam took in a big breath when he got to his left side.

“I don’t think these are broken, probably just bruised, but I’m gonna take a series of x- rays to be sure.” 

It felt weird when his chest was palpated and Sam was surprised to feel how sore his left breast was. “You don't seem to have any problems with your neck, you’re carrying your shoulders a little stiff…how about your head. Did you hit it?”

He nodded, not really remembering if he did, but judging by the slight headache that pressed behind his right ear and eye, he probably had.

Lukas felt up his neck and then his hands slipped behind Sam’s head, feeling his scalp. “You gotta little lump about the size of an acorn right here,” he told Sam, pressing gently against the spot behind Sam’s ear. “It doesn’t look like a concussion…but do you feel lightheaded or dizzy, any nausea?” 

He shook his head. “Um, not really…I’ve gotta little headache.” Sam turned to look toward Dean, who still leaned casually against the door frame. “My…ah, my ears were ringing earlier, but that’s stopped now.”

“Okay…good. Does this hurt?” The man ran a gentle finger under Sam’s right eye, pressing on his cheek bone and eye socket.

“Not too much.”

“It’s red now, but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning. Let’s take a look at your legs.” The blanket was rearranged, lifted up around his shoulders and then taken off his feet and legs. 

Each leg was examined, lifted and bent at the knee. He felt like his joints were hot and stiff, but not particularly painful. He couldn’t help tensing when Lukas removed his socks and looked at his ankles and feet. The left one was looked at first, flexed forward and backward, side to side, each toe tugged, but then he touched the right one and a quick intake of breath got Dean moving closer, coming to a stop by Sam’s head.

“I’m sorry…can you try to bend it own your own?” 

Sam moved his foot forward and then pointed his toes, but it hurt too much to move it side to side and Lukas was extra careful with his toes, especially the last three on his foot. “We’ll get an x-ray here too, but I think it’s just a severe sprain. I’ll wrap it for you, but the toes are definitely broken. Not much we can do for that besides taping them together. You’ll need to wear shoes with good support for a few weeks until they heal up.”

He nodded, already knowing that. He had broken the pinky toe on that same foot when he was a teenager, mad as hell about something his father had said to him, so pissed he had kicked an old tin bucket. 

Dean still brings it up from time to time, when he feels Sam’s being pig headed, but he was also the one to look at Sam’s foot back then and tape the little toe to the one next to it. 

“Do you think you can roll to your side or do you need help?”

He rolled carefully over to his left side, feeling like he was breaking loose invisible threads in his back. He hadn’t realized how much he had hurt there until he tried shifting over, twisting his back muscles in the process. 

“Man.” Sam was a little surprised to hear his brother talk.

“What?” he turned his head to look over his shoulder, aborting the move before he got too far. “What is it?”

“Man, Sammy. I don’t know how you’re even moving.” Dean came around to the other side of the exam table so it was easier for Sam to see him. “You got the whole rainbow back there.”

Sam held his breath as gentle fingers pressed into his spine and around the fleshy part of his sides, his hips and lower over his ass. “This is not my favorite part either, but it’s a fast way to be sure you’re not bleeding eternally.” A single slick finger went up his ass and he couldn’t help but squirm, turning at least a few shades of red. Dean had moved away by then, maybe suspecting that this was coming. Sam didn’t see him anywhere in the room when he looked. He started to breathe again when it was pulled out.

“There is a little blood, but not enough to worry about. I’m gonna get an ultrasound to be sure though.” The guy pulled the covers down one handed and then shucked his gloves, going to the mini sink to wash his hands. “You sure did a number on yourself, gonna have some spectacular bruises and be sore as hell for a few weeks, but besides the toes and possibly the ankle I don’t think anything is broken. Can you shift over to your back?”

Sam rolled back carefully, unable to stifle his pain. “As soon as I get the ultrasound done, I’ll give ya some good stuff for the pain.”

A machine was rolled over toward the bed, new gloves pulled on and his blanket pulled back, his gown pushed up. A squirt of cold gel hit his belly and then a wand type thing smeared through it, changing the snow on the little monitor into a grainy image. 

Dean was looking over the Medical Assistant’s shoulder at the screen and Sam had to wonder where he came from, but he only got a little nod and a wink.

Whatever Lukas saw, it must not have been too bad, because while Dean was looking at the pictures, Sam was watching the man’s face. “This looks pretty good, Sam. You’ve got some bruising to your left kidney, you might notice some blood in your urine, your stool for a little while, but as long as the amount is small it’s nothing to worry about. It’ll go away once the kidney heals.”

He handed Sam some tissues to clean his belly with while he looked some more at the images he had captured, then printed a few out.

“I’ve got a portable x-ray machine. I want to get some pictures okay?”

“Okay.” Sam wadded up the tissues in his hand, pulling the blanket up to his chin, still feeling chilly, but let the tissues go when his brother touched his fingers, taking them from him to toss into the bin by the door.

Before stepping from the room, Lukas unlocked a small cabinet, getting down a vial and a brand new syringe wrapped in white paper. “You’re about what…210?”

“Yeah, about.” 

The needle was stuck into the pearly looking liquid and drawn into the chamber. Lukas grabbed a little square wrapped alcohol wipe and opened it before lifting the sheets and swabbing Sam’s right thigh. “Just a little pinch, ” But Sam didn’t even really feel the needle going in, just a slight burn when the guy pressed down on the plunger. “We’ll give it a few minutes to work.”

Already Sam was feeling slightly flushed, warm and floaty. The man wasn’t kidding when he said the good stuff. 

Lukas brought in a bigger machine this time, pushing it over to the exam bed, sliding the bottom piece under the bed and adjusting the apparatus that hung from the top over Sam’s chest. He moved away to a small closet along the wall and pulled out some blue aprons, handing one to Dean and draping one over Sam’s stomach and legs. “How’s the pain, Sam?”

Truthfully, he was feeling fine. “Okay…everything is pleasantly numb.” And he barked a small laugh when Dean gave him knowing grin and a thumbs up.

“Good.” He pulled a large metal sheet from the machine and pushed it under Sam’s shoulder blades and back. “You might want to wait by the door Dean.” His brother moved back a little. “Sam I’m gonna count down from three to one. When I get to one I want you to take a nice deep breath and hold it, okay. Stay as still as you can.”

“Okay.”

“Ready? Three, two, one.” The machine made a slight noise and then Lukas was counting down again. He took a few more pictures of Sam’s chest and then moved the machine down the bed to his foot. It hardly hurt when his foot was maneuvered into a couple of different positions and then the counting started again. He was just about dropping off into sleep by the time all the x-rays were done. The metal sheet was pulled from below his leg and slid back into the machine.

It hardy took any time to develop the film and Lukas stuck them onto the lighted box that hung on the wall near the bed. He took a few minutes studying each film, taking down some and putting up others. “You’ve got a small hairline fracture to one rib on your left side.” he told Sam. “And the ankles not broken, so that’s good news.” He flipped off the lights and pulled down the remaining films, putting them into a large manila envelop along with the printouts from the ultrasound. “Lets tape your toes and then you can get a little rest, let your meds start to work better, give you better pain control before you try to get up.”

Some more drawers were opened and then his foot was uncovered. He hardly felt it as his toes were manipulated and taped together and then his ankle was tightly wrapped. Lukas handed Sam some capsules and a bottle of water. “Take these for the swelling.”

Dean helped him sit up a little so he could swallow the pills. 

By the time he was laying again, Dean had found some more pillows to support his back and Lukas put a few under his knees and placed and ice pack on his ankle. 

“Get some rest, Sam. I’m gonna have a talk with the doctor. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Sam had already closed his eyes before his brother started talking, but he managed to nod his head before drifting off completely.

SNSNSN

Dean and Lukas stepped from the exam room. “He’s gonna be fine, Dean. Pretty banged up, but everything will heal.”

“Thanks man. I appreciate you taking care of my br…friend.”

“No problem, that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Lukas dropped the envelope with Sam’s x-rays and ultrasound pictures on a desk in the adjacent room. “I’ve called Dr. Wiland. She’s gonna be here in about twenty minutes to take a look at Sam’s test results, give him a once over before releasing him. She’ll give final instructions then. It’s almost lunch time. There’s a decent café in walking distance, on the corner of Main and Fate. I can keep an eye on Sam if you want to get something to eat, maybe bring him something back.”

“Thanks, man. Can he have…”

“Whatever he usually eats is fine. He’s not gonna have any dietary restrictions but he probably should eat before we give him the next dose of his pain meds, they’ve been know to cause upset stomach if taken without food.”

“Okay, cool. Um, here’s my cell number.” Dean picked up a pen from the desk and jotted down his number on a phone message pad. “I won’t be long, but you know, call me if he needs me.”

“Will do.” Lukas shoved the paper into his pocket before heading off to another part of the clinic.

Dean ducked back into the room Sam was sleeping in, pulling the privacy curtain partway around the bed. “Hey, Sam?” His brother’s face twitched at his name, but his eyes didn’t open and that was good, that meant Sammy was feeling no pain. “I’m going to get us some lunch…bacon double cheeseburger with the works for you?” Sam's mouth turned down and his brows drew closer together. “Only kidding, that’s for me. For you I’m gonna get a cob salad…how’s that? Maybe some green tea or some other girly shit you like to drink. Listen, Lukas has my cell number, okay. And I’m only gonna be gone however long it takes to get our food. I’ll be right back, promise.”

Sam’s mouth opened and moved as if he was saying something, but no sound came out and then he licked his lips. Dean patted his hand before leaving, picking up his pace once he was on the street. He really didn’t want to be gone longer then necessary to get them something to eat.

The café was literally on the next street corner, not even a block away. It wasn’t crowded yet, if it was even going to get crowded. Maybe this was the lunch crowd. He asked for a menu and then ordered at the counter, sitting up at the bar while he waited.

The girl taking his order was a pretty red headed thing, green eyes and freckles, shapely legs under the short black skirt and pert tits under the tight white button down shirt. Her lacy pink bra was just peaking out from her blouse when she bent over the counter to take his order and while they both waited, she leaned on the other counter, chatting with someone behind the order window, her skirt pulled tight over a perfectly rounded ass.

He hadn’t expected to stay in town, but if Sam couldn’t travel for a few days he would be back, he’d tap that ass for sure. 

“Here you go, hon.” She handed him a brown bag and his mouth was already salivating from the smell of his cheeseburger. “That’ll be $13.50.” 

He dug out his wallet and pulled out a twenty, accepting the change and shoving the few bills into the tip jar by the register. 

“Come back, soon.” She called as the door swung shut. 

He tucked the receipt into the bag, excited to see she had sighed her name and left her phone number. “Billi with an ‘I’ and two little hearts instead of dots. Hell yeah.”

When he made it back to the clinic he had noticed a new car parked at the curb. No one was in the reception area, so he made his way back to the exam rooms. He could hear Sam moaning before he even got through the door and all thoughts of Billi fled in sight of his brother who was clearly in pain. “I know…I’m sorry Sam. Almost done.”

Someone new stood over his brother, but judging by the lab coat he assumed it was the doctor Lukas had mentioned. She had Sam rolled onto his side and Dean caught sight of more bruising across Sam’s back, between his shoulder blades. They were already a deep purple and no doubt in a few days they will have morphed into ugly yellows and greens.

She looked up when Dean sat his bag down, giving him a slight smile and then returning her attention to Sam. She wasn’t as old as Dean had expected, maybe mid thirty’s, dark hair cut into a bob, brown eyes open and caring. She talked with a slight…accent, but he couldn’t quite place it, definitely somewhere from the east coast.

“Your friend is back. Do you think you can sit up and eat?”

Sam kept his eyes closed, but nodded his head and that worried Dean. Maybe the meds were still knocking him out, but from the set of his jaw Dean guessed it was the pain.

But what they had given him should still be working. He was resting pretty comfortably not even thirty minutes ago.

“Hey Sam…I got you something to eat.” The exam bed Sam was lying on could be pulled up to support his brother’s back; it had metal braces that held the top end up at a few different angles. 

Sam drew in a quick breath as he rolled over. The doctor took his arm and Dean grabbed the other and together they hoisted him up. She left Dean supporting Sam’s upper body while she manually lifted the head of the bed and secured it, stuffing a few pillows behind his back before Dean guided him down again. 

Sam's eyes opened and then squeezed shut, but he didn’t make any noises of distress. The doctor carefully shifted Sam’s legs on the pillow under his knees adding another, making sure the ice pack was still cold.

“I’m going to go have a look at your chart. You try to eat and then we’ll give you something else for the pain.”

Sam nodded, his eyes at half mast and still a little clouded. The meds should still be working considering his brother looked high as a kite, but the thin lines around his mouth and eyes said differently.

Since it was gonna be awhile before he got more of the good stuff, Dean tried to keep Sam’s mind off his pain, making small talk as he unpacked the bag of food. 

He set Sam’s salad on his lap and his drink on the table against the wall, snatching the rolling stool with his foot and sitting near Sam’s bed. “You should have seen the chick at the café, man. Drop dead gorgeous and coming onto me, she wanted me bad, Sammy. Should have seen her tight ass…”

“Dean?”

“And her boobs, a mouthful, I tell ya…”

“Dean?”

“And oh, man…legs up to here. I betcha she could have wrapped them around me and…”

“DEAN!”

“What? Geez man…no need to yell.” Dean smirked as Sam dropped his gaze, pushing his salad around with a plastic fork.

“Did you say you talked to Bobby?” 

He waited a second; pointedly looking from Sam’s uneaten salad to his fork. Sam sighed, but put some lettuce in his mouth. “Yeah. After you got yourself trapped, I called him while I was looking for the bone yard. He was spouting off about the customs from that area, how the grave yard should have been north of the house.”

He didn’t start talking again until Sam put another forkful in his mouth. “I hung up when I found the site but called back once I worked my ass off digging up a bunch of burnt bones.”

Sam choked a little on his lettuce. “What?”

“Yeah, seems after Bobby did a little digging, he found out a hunter named Campbell salted and burned the bones right after the disappearances started.”

“Campbell…I never heard of a hunter named Campbell. And if a spook didn’t take Sara then who was the spirit in the house trying to kill me?”

“Bobby hadn’t either. I was getting ready to climb to the balcony, try to get you out by the window when I saw Kyle Sumners car pulling in. He nearly shit his pants when I knocked on his window. He told me that he got a call late last night, after I had already been by to see him, demanding a ransom for Sara. Told me he was supposed to meet the kidnapper alone with the money and then he would be called with the directions to his daughter.”

Sam made a little noise in his throat and Dean looked up from his burger. “She kept saying the trader was gonna get her. I thought she was talking about Seth…but turned out he was just a man.”

“Come on Sammy, we both know that people can be more screwed up then half the shit we hunt down and kill.”

He didn’t say anything, but he did put another bite in is mouth so Dean told him the rest of what he knew. Dean had asked Sumners where the meet was suppose to go down then climbed to the balcony to find that Sam was gone. He found the hole in the wall that Sam had tumbled through and the broken steps, so he knew he had to find another way in. 

The door was still locked down tight and the bookcase was heavy as shit when he tried to move it. In the end he had shimmied back down from the balcony and searched the south woods, keeping Sumners in sight and looking out for the kidnappers. 

“I just got lucky, I guess. I saw a van pulling in once I got down to the ground, lights out and moving real slow. The guy got out and talked to Sumners briefly and then drove away. I followed on foot and saw the opening to the tunnels, by the time I got there though, it was already going down.

“Sara kept saying her Mama had told her that someone was coming to help her, you don’t think…”

“Could be.” Dean interrupted. They both knew that kids were more open to seeing things than adults. “You know when a spirit gets pissed off its unpredictable. She maybe trapped you in that room because it was the closest way to get to Sara. Whoever she was though she was bound to the house, you saw how she dissipated when she tried to follow Perkins out of the tunnels.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam winced when he reached for his tea and once he finished sipping it he didn’t attempt to put it back on the table. “Couldn’t have been her mother though, the dress wasn’t right, the hair style and she looked…she didn’t look like she had been tortured or left to die.”

“Well don’t worry about it. I put a call into Kenny this morning. He should already be there by now. He’s gonna go in as a fed before the real ones show up, take a look around the tunnel, see if he can find any bodies needing burning, collect my favorite shotgun you said you had with you.”

Sam smirked and sipped on his tea. “Hey, I said it was with me, not that I had it in my hands.”

“I’d say so…it was clear on the other side of the room. Next time I ask you about your weapon you damn well better tell me the truth. If I had known you were without it, I would have got to you first.”

“I know.” 

And Dean knew too…that’s why Sam lied, because he thought that that little girls life was more important than his own…well not to Dean. That might seem a little cruel, but it was just the facts.

He had just finished shoving in the last bite of burger when Sam called his name.

“Um…Dean.”

And shit was he green. Dean jumped up, looking for something, anything to catch the puke that Sam was trying so hard to keep down. He had dumped whatever was in the brown bag, seeing the receipt cling to the side, but he really didn’t give a fuck about Brandy or whatever her name was…Sam came first, he always had.

He got it right under Sam's mouth just as the vomit came up, mostly liquid and a few chunks of his undigested lettuce. Sam curled over himself, both arms pressed to his belly, big tears of pain welling then falling. 

“It’s s’kay, don’t fight it. Just go with it, Sammy.” He reached up and wiped Sam's face with his hand, tucking some wayward hair behind his brother’s ear, resting his hand on Sam’s back and feeling the tension there, the stiff and spasming muscles.

There wasn’t much in his stomach, but Dean winced when the dry heaves started. His brother hands were wrapped so tight in the sheets, Dean could see his knuckles turning white. He thanked whoever may have been listening when that had slowed and then stopped. He gently uncoiled Sam’s hands from the bedding, easing him back onto the pillow.

Sam's face was pale and he was sweating, the armpits of the hospital gown he wore were soaked through, but his breathing was evening out. 

Dean tossed the bag into the red bio bin, wetting some paper towels and putting them on Sam’s forehead. “That’s it, Sammy…relax.”

Sam had pinched his eyes shut, but that hadn’t stopped a few tears from leaking and Dean wasn’t quite sure what to do. He hadn’t seen Sam crying from pain in a long time.

“God, Dean…my back…” 

SNSNSN 

“Sammy, hey Sammy?”

He knew Dean was talking to him. Dean had been babbling to him for awhile now, but Sam couldn’t open his eyes to look, couldn't move an inch in fact, because he found a position which was bearable and just sort of zoned.

He knew he was holding his muscles coiled, but it didn’t matter right now.

The cold compress over his burning eyes had been replaced a few times, but when Dean had removed it this time a new one didn’t replace it. Just that small change had nearly brought tears to his eyes and damnit, he didn’t want to cry again, not in front of Dean. 

He’s body still hurt, but if he concentrated enough, it was distant. The all consuming fire in his back had burned out a little, but still very much there and he was afraid to move, didn’t even want to breathe in too deep. 

And his stomach was doing weird things, growling like he was hungry, but swirling with nausea at the same time, and he would give anything not to up chuck again.

“Come on, Sammy…open your eyes.”

A cool hand rested on his forehead and he wanted…no needed to tell Dean to get the hell off him, but he was afraid that the slightest move would set off another wave of agony. 

He had never, ever felt anything like the spasms that ripped through his back, seizing his vertebrae and rattling his spine. It didn’t even hurt that much to tumble down the damn steps to begin with. 

“Come on, Sammy…” 

_Just shut up, man…leave me alone._

“Doctor Wiland is here and needs to look at you, ” and before he could utter a protest his body was being rearranged on the slim bed. 

“Uuunnngggg.” _Geez, was that sound coming from me? How pathetic is that. Man the hell up Sam._

“Shh…It’s okay now, she’s got some good stuff for you.”

He felt the cool air raise goose flesh on his ass, and then something wet wiped across his skin. He felt a jab and then a burning and then…the pain started to fade. Little by little he’s muscles started to relax, let loose, let go of the tension he was holding in his body.

“That’s it, Sammy. Relax.”

He was hovering on the edge of oblivion when Dean’s fucking cell phone revived him. 

“I gotta take this,” he heard his brother say, but he didn’t know who Dean was talking to. 

Dean’s footsteps receded and Sam sensed he wasn’t alone. He finally cracked open his eyes to see someone sitting by his bed.

“I already saw you, so you can’t pretend you’re sleeping.” Doctor Wiland stood, patting his leg though the thin sheets as she moved to the cabinet on the other side of the room. “You should be feeling a little better now,” she told him. “You got sick because of the shot Lukas gave you earlier and I’m sorry about that. It’s a side effect that comes with all pain killers.” She shuffled stuff around on the shelf before pulling down something in a foil packet. “I’ve increase your dosage to give you better pain control and I’m starting you on muscle relaxants. Lukas gave you the max amount that he could, but that dosage isn’t going to be strong enough, that’s why it wore off so fast and you were hurting again so soon.”

She pulled on some gloves and opened a little foil packet of something. It was hard for him to keep track of her, his eyes kept closing. But when she started talking again he would open them and try to pay attention. “I have something for your nausea. I’m gonna send you home with them so be sure to use them. You’ll heal a lot faster if your muscles remain relaxed.” He saw a white bullet shaped something on the tip of her finger and tensed when she lifted the blanket uncovering his hip. “Just relax Sam…breathe deep and normal.” His legs were already bent up and over a pillow, so she had no trouble reaching her hand around the bend of his ass, using her thumb and another finger to open his cheeks and pushing the suppository in, her finger traveling up as far as it would go. She immediately pulled her finger out, removing her gloves and washing her hands. 

“I know it feels a little weird now, but it’ll start to melt and release the medicines to keep your stomach settled.”

And he did feel weird, sweaty and gross, drugged up and his asshole felt…well wrong somehow, like the medicine inside him was holding him open and he wondered what would happen when he needed to take a shit.

But even still, it was better then the pain. He would do whatever it took not to feel that again

“Try to get some sleep, Sam. You can leave when you wake up.”

Next time he opened his eyes his brother was looking at him, sitting so close and studying him he wondered if he had a boogie in his nose or something.

“’Bout time, sleeping beauty. You ready to get out of here?” 

He was ready. 

The mattress on the bed was too thin and he’s shoulders and hips were aching from the pressure he was putting on them, but the blazing pain was gone.

“Yeah, yeah. What time is it?” The lights in his room were dimmed, but since there weren’t any windows he couldn’t tell the time of day. 

Dean glanced at his watch, “it’s half passed seven.”

“At night?” He felt like he had hardly slept 

“’Fraid so…I was beginning to think you were gonna sleep right through till tomorrow.” Dean stood and stretched out his back and neck. “Doctor Wiland will be back from dinner in a few minutes, but you can get dressed. I checked us in a place down the road a few miles. Closer to the next town, but the hotel was a little better and I found a Walmart with a pharmacy.”

Dean pulled his duffle from under the bed, taking out Sam’s pajama pants, boxers and a clean t-shirt. “Let me help you sit up.” Dean took the pillows out from under his knees, tossing them onto the floor and Sam tensed when he grabbed his hands and yanked up. “You gotta stay loose, man. Try not to tense up…it’ll hurt less.”

He nodded, but he wasn’t really feeling any pain right now anyway.

He shifted, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the bed. Sam pulled the hospital gown down and off, leaving the piled blankets to cover his lap. Dean threaded one of his arms through his t-shirt, slid it over his head and then barely lifted the other arm and pushed it through, all before Sam could say he could do it himself. 

He shook out Sam’s pants, putting the boxers inside so Sam could step into them and the pants at the same time. But before he could shift forward, Dean pulled them up his legs as far as they could go. “Step down nice and easy, lean on me.” 

He slid forward, expected some form of pain, but instead he got dizzy and grabbed onto his brother’s shoulders for support. His pants were pulled up the rest of the way and Dean put his arms around him, hugging him, keeping his legs from buckling.

“You okay…think you can make it over to the chair? I should have pulled it closer before I even got you up.” He nodded against Dean’s shoulder and they sorta shuffled together over to the chair. He had to hobble on the heel of his right foot, because with or without the pain meds it hurt like a bitch to put much pressure on that ankle, and normally he would have used his toes, but with three of them bruised and broken it presented a problem. 

He wondered if he was going to have to walk on crutches for awhile.

The dizziness had passed after he was seated for a few minutes and he watched Dean bend and help him with socks and then his left boot, tucking the other one into his duffle bag.

His brother pulled a stick of deodorant from his bag, a not so subtle hint that Sam stunk. He took it without complaint or comment, lifting each arm to smear some on.

“Thanks.”

Dean nodded, getting back to his feet and slinging Sam’s bag over his shoulder. Doctor Wiland showed up a few minutes later.

“How are you feeling, Sam?” She carried the large envelope with his diagnostic tests under her arm and a little white bag in the other. 

“Not to bad, considering…” He pushed his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears and trying to smooth it down on top, but it was a losing battle.

“Well I see you’re all ready to go. I’ve already given your brother your prescriptions, but there are some samples in the bag, and I have your test results and my findings in this envelope, to pass on to your own doctor and you’re gonna need to see him or her in a few days, let him assess your condition, reevaluate your pain control. Depending on how you’re feeling he may cut some of the pills or try something new if you’re not getting enough relief.” He glanced toward Dean during her spiel, but his brother didn’t seem surprised by anything she was saying. He must have already heard this.

“You’re gonna need to be on bed rest for awhile…until your ankle heals a little better and you can start using some crutches to get around. But it’s not bed rest in the sense that you have to lay down all day. It’s actually better if you exercise your muscles to keep them from stiffening up, so I’ve included a sheet with some simple exercises you can do to stay limber. Use ice on your ankle and anywhere else that hurts until at least tomorrow night and then you can use heat…heating pads or hot showers or baths. Just get help getting in and out of the tub. In fact I would like you to put a chair in the shower stall and sit under the spray for the first few days until you have a chance to adjust to your medicines. It’s not uncommon to feel lightheaded or sick to your stomach the first few days on the meds”

She looked to him, probably judging his level of comprehension. The drugs did seem to be doing a number on his brain matter, but he couldn’t work up enough cells that seemed to care.

“Dean has your medicines. You’ve got a pain reliever, a muscle relaxant, a prescription strength Ibuprofen for swelling and inflammation and a medicine for nausea. Any questions?”

He’s eyes were drooping during that last part, but he knew Dean had his back.

“Okay, well good luck to you than. It was nice meeting you both.” She shook both their hands and left the room, handing Dean the large envelope and little white bag.

“I pulled the car up. Let’s see if we can get you in it.”

Dean tucked the package under his arm and wrapped the other one about Sam, pulling him to his feet. He was still dizzy, but it passed quicker this time around. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam’s right side and pulled him close so Sam could use him like a human crutch. It was slow going, but Sam was able to mostly hop to the car, thankful for the pain relievers flooding his system. 

The hotel that Dean had booked was nearly thirty minutes down the interstate and Sam was near the end of his endurance. As carefully as Dean was driving and he was taking extra care not to hit every pothole he could find, Sam’s body still ached. He couldn’t find a comfortable position in the seat, couldn't stretch out his legs too far, and couldn’t find the right amount of support for his back, so he squirmed around the last ten minutes of the trip, feeling a low burn starting at the base of his neck and small of his back. 

He wanted out of the car, started to panic but then the sign for the Best Western finally came into view. “Dean, you have my meds, right?” his voice was shaky, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to get in the room and flat on his back and take his drugs.

“Shit.” Dean hit the steering wheel and Sam’s anxiety shot up another couple of notches. “I forgot to give you the freaking pillow.”

“Wh…what?” The car rolled to a stop in front of a real hotel…not their usual digs.

“The pillow, Sammy. I was suppose to give it to you for the car ride…you can press it to your belly or use it behind your back, whatever feels better. I can’t believe I freakin’ forgot.”

It must be the drugs, because whatever Dean was saying wasn’t making much sense. _Come on already. Get me into the freaking room and forget about the freakin’ pillow._ “Dean, I ah…I really need to lay down.” 

“Sure Sammy.” He was already out of the car and moving around to Sam’s side. He yanked open the door and crouched down to help him out. “I’ll get you settled and come back for the stuff.”

Dean used a key card to get into the side entrance and Sam knew then that he was a little slow on the uptake. It hadn’t occurred to him that Dean had already been here, had checked them in so the room would be ready when he brought Sam home and Sam could kiss him for that if he didn’t think he would get a punch in the face for his show of gratitude. 

Their room was on the ground level and right next to the exterior door they had just entered. Dean pushed the door opened before him and flipped on one of the light switches, bathing the room in a warm light, so unlike the fluorescent bulbs of their usual motels.

The bed away from the door already had the covers and sheets turned down. 

“Need to use the can?”

He nodded, letting Dean help him into the room then shutting the door on him. “I can handle it from here, thanks.”

He didn’t linger, quickly washing his hands and face, brushing his teeth with the complimentary toothpaste and toothbrush and wonder how much Dean was putting out for this night’s stay.

“You okay in there?”

Sam knew Dean could be impatient when it came to Sam’s health and didn’t want to push his luck, so he hurried through his teeth brushing; finger combed his hair and tried to ignore the miserable image in the mirror. “Just give me another minute.”

Once he freshened up, he looked at the tub, wishing he could sink into hot water and soak away some of his aches, feel a little cleaner…his ass still felt weird, but he knew Dean wouldn’t go for it. 

Apparently his brother had come up with a game plan, plus he was still tired and starting to hurt again.

When he left the bathroom, Dean was leaning on the wall, waiting for him. “Gee, I hope everything came out okay.”

“Yup, thanks for asking.” He sank into the bed, letting Dean help him down. 

Once Dean had come up with a plan, his brother intended to see it through to the end and it was just easier to go with the flow…for now anyway.

The bed under him was soft, yet firm at the same time. He rested his hands on the mattress, noting the weird texture, hills and valleys, in whatever was under the sheets. “What is this, Dean?”

“Egg crates…well, that’s what I’m calling it, ‘cause that’s what it looks like. I got it at Walmart. It’s supposed to relieve pressure points, so…”

“Oh…”

Dean puttered around and Sam closed his eyes. “It’s almost an hour yet before you can take your pain reliever. How you doing now, need anything?”

“Hmm…no.” He didn’t bother to open his eyes when he felt Dean shoving something soft along the right side of his body, or even when he raised Sam’s right leg a tucked a pillow behind his knee and under his ankle. A cold compress draped over his wrapped foot and ankle and another over his eyes. He appreciated his brother’s attempt to make him feel better. Dean always did take good care of him. “Thanks.”

SNSNSN

_Geez…Sammy looks like shit… worse than shit….shit on the bottom of someone’s boots._

Once Dean had tucked some pillows along Sam’s side to keep him as still as possible, he had gone back to the car to get some stuff he had picked up at the local Walmart. 

This little town was pretty nice. 

The hotel was a step above where they would normally stay, but the little extra cash was worth the accommodations. It had a microwave and mini fridge, firm mattresses and a real bathtub instead of just a shower stall. Best of all there was an indoor pool and hot tub and when Sam was feeling better he could soak in the warmth while Dean used the mini indoor gym equipment. 

No telling how long before Sam would be fit to travel. There was nothing worse than being stuck in the car with bruises and stiff muscles and no way to ease the strain.

But Dean didn’t want to think about that just yet. He was still pretty pissed that Sam had the snot beat out of him and it wasn’t even their kind of hunt. “Freaking humans.” 

While Sam was still at the clinic Kenny had called. He had no problem recovering Sam’s weapon and after a little exploring he had found a sealed room in the subbasement, off one of the intersecting tunnels that had three decaying bodies. 

None of them fit the ghost of the woman Dean had seen. What clothing was left didn’t match the night gown she wore and Kenny was pretty sure that Sara’s mother wasn’t among the corpses. This Campbell fellow had put Seth Sumners down a long time ago, so whoever was haunting the house hadn’t been trapped and left to die there.

Sam made a little sound in his sleep, rolling his head on his pillow, clutching the smaller pillow that Dean had bought especially for that to his stomach. 

It was almost time for Sam’s next dose of pain medicine and he seemed to be coming around a little, his face was a little flush and his skin looked a little sweaty and this was the part that Dean hated.

He had patched Sam up so many times before and vise versa, usually the thrill of the hunt or the chase would pump them both full of endorphins, and the pain from their injuries wouldn’t come until later but when it did…Dean could stitch Sam’s skin or check him for concussion or set a broken bone, actively doing things to bring relief but once that was done, there wasn’t much else he could do and he hated to see his little brother in pain, hated that he couldn’t sooth away the hurts like he could when they were little. 

Sam shifted again and moaned deep and low in his throat, tossing his head on the pillow but not yet waking, which was good for Sam, but not so much for Dean 

He would probably do that for while before the grasp of the medication would release him to the waking world and when it did, Dean knew Sam was in for a world of hurt. Hardly any of his body was free of deep bruising and soft tissue damage. From his head right down to his feet, he was covered with blotchy patches of blacks and purples.

Doctor Wiland had warned him that Sam would be hurting for days and days while he healed. That even though the individual injuries weren’t in and of themselves so painful, but the combination of his multiple injuries, the shear volume of them, would weigh on and tax Sam’s body and with the combinations of the medicines he needed to take, his mind and emotions too.

Dean’s stomach growled and he checked his watch, opening the bureau that held the television and used the remote to turn it on and turn down the volume. It was a little after nine at night, almost twenty four hours since this whole damn thing had started.

He would need to get food soon, since he didn’t want Sam to take his meds on an empty stomach, but he didn’t want to run out to get it.

The hotel was well situated, with some choices between fast food chains and local grills and diners. The Walmart had a grocery store too, so when Dean had made the trip to check them in and pick up Sam’s prescription, he had picked up some basics like bread, peanut butter and jelly, lunch meat and mayo, soda and some canned soup, crackers and chips and some candy for Sam. 

For a guy that ate healthy his little brother had one hell of a sweet tooth.

Dean grabbed the ice bucket and slipped from the room and down the hall to the ice machine. When he returned, Sam was stirring more, grimacing in his sleep, moving his shoulders against the pile of pillows behind his back.

Dean felt Sam’s forehead on his way passed, watching as Sam turned his face toward the heat of his hand. His brother was a little warm, but there was no real fever .The doctor had told him to be on the lookout for one. That Sam would probably run a low grade fever for a few days as his body started to heal.

He went to the bathroom and brought back the little tray that held little glasses covered with weird ass paper coaster thingies. He decided to fix sandwiches and maybe some soup for Sam. He got the kind that you could warm up and sip from the can.

He got some bologna and turkey breast from the mini fridge and made a sandwich for himself and Sam. He popped some chicken and stars soup into the microwave while he poured two glasses of cola and put the whole tray down on the table that separated the beds.

“Sammy?” 

Sam turned his head toward Dean’s voice, but his eyes stay closed.

“Come on, Sammy…wakey, wakey.” 

“Hmmm.”

“I made you an awesome turkey sandwich and Unsolved Mysteries is on the tube…come on…wake up.”

Sam’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and then his eyes finally opened a slit.

“Hey, let’s eat okay? Watch a little tv and get you settled for the night…what do ya say?” Dean pulled the pillow resting on Sam’s stomach away and shifted the others so he could help Sam sit up a little. “Up and at ‘em.”

He manhandled his brother as little as possible, piling some pillows against the headboard and pulling Sammy up by his arm pits. A myriad of expressions crossed Sam’s face, but he bit his lips to keep from making any unmanly sounds. 

Once situated, he sat the little tray on Sam’s lap, taking his own sandwich and drink, flipping down on his bed and turning the tv volume up a few notches. The microwave pinged and he sat his sandwich on the table and got Sam’s soup. “Her ya go, you’re favorite.”

“Thanks.”

They watched tv, well Sam seemed to be as he picked apart his sandwich, but Dean was watching his brother more then the tube. 

“I’m fine, man.”

He turned his eyes back to the show. “I know,” he finally took a bite into his bologna, making quick work of his sandwich and getting up to make another. “You need anything else?”

“I’m good.” Sam was sipping his soup, leaving half his sandwich on the tray. 

When they were done with dinner, Dean got the bag of samples and Sam's prescriptions. He read all the directions, the pamphlet that came with each bottle then opened them and shook out three different pills into the palm of his hand.

Sam took them from him and popped them into his mouth, chasing them down with his soda.

“I ah…I left the stuff for nausea by the toilet, if you need any he…”

“No…I ah, I can do it myself. I might not even need them.”

Dean sure hoped so. Sam was hurting enough without having to deal with a sour stomach and he didn’t want a repeat of earlier when Sam had gotten sick and his back spasmed on him.

Cleaning up a little, Dean checked the locks on the door and window, laying down some salt lines and drawing some protective wards on the window that overlooked the parking lot. 

He helped Sam shift down and to his side, shoving pillows under his back and one between his bent legs to support the ankle.

They watched some more tv and then the nightly news. The story of Sara Sumners opened the broadcast as breaking news.

_Earlier today we broke the story of the kidnapping of Sara Summers, daughter of engineer Kyle Sumners. The Sumners family has asked for privacy at this time. We can now confirm that the kidnapper, thirty nine year old Lee Perkins was in the employ of Sumners Firm and was under internal investigation for extortion and fraud._

_The FBI has been called in to investigate the death of the kidnapper and the burning of the family estate earlier this evening. On a happy note, wife and mother Lelia Sumners has reached out to her family after a long absence from her daughter’s life. We’ll continue to update you on this story as more information becomes available._

_In unrelated news…_

Dean turned the tv off and looked toward his brother.

Sam hadn’t said a thing, but who knew what was going on in that freakish brain of his.

“So I guess that means Kenny took care of things?” Sam finally said. 

Dean shifted up and off the bed, getting his bag and dropping his pants. He was tired and felt dirty, but a shower could wait until morning. He stepped into his sweats, answering his brother. “Kenny’ll meet up with us in a few days. He found a room with corpses and torched the whole damn place to be safe.”

“Hmmm…”

“Hmmm, what?” Dean tossed his bag into the closet, contemplating another bologna sandwich. 

“Well…if Sara’s mother had up and left them,” Sam said it like it left a dirty taste in his mouth and Dean had to agree…that just sucked. “Who was the spirit in the house?” 

“Bobby did some digging, found out that Shirley; the woman that started the whole thing had lived in the house with her husband Jeremy and their two boys. She gave birth at home and died during the delivery, so I guess it’s possible she was just protecting her great granddaughter from an human threat…I mean it makes sense that she wouldn’t be able to take out the ghost of Seth Sumners, they would have cancelled each other out.

“I guess.” Sam kicked the pillow between his legs to the floor and started to push himself up.

“Whoa…” Dean dropped the bologna on top his bread and hurried to help Sam up. He looked a little green once upright, but his face was free of pain. “Where ya going?”

Sam sighed his patented little brother sigh and looked toward the bathroom. “I need to go.”

“Okay, let me help.” He let Sam use his arms and shoulders to get to his feet and walked beside him as he shuffled to the bathroom.

“I got it from here.” Sam went inside, but only closed the door part way.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Dean called, smirking at his brother’s mumbled response. “I heard that.”

The toilet flushed a few minutes later and Dean could hear the water running in the sink, but Sam hadn’t appeared back in the bedroom. “Hey, you okay in there?” 

“Yeah…”

He didn’t like the sound of Sam’s voice, so he peeked into the room and saw Sam hanging onto the counter around the sink, stretching the muscles in his neck and back. “What’s going on, Sam?”

“Just working out some kinks, feels good to stretch a little. Wish I could get in the tub and soak.”

Dean pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the hot water.

“Ah...Dean…where did that come from.”

Dean looked down at the white stool he picked up in the pharmacy section of Walmart, feeling a little self conscious at the time, but the smile on Sammy’s face made it worth it.

“Just take it slow, ” he told his brother. “I’ll be right out side.”

He waited until Sam was able to get his t-shirt over his head before pulling the door partly closed and going back to his sandwich.

SNSNSN

The warmth of the shower sluiced over bruised and sore flesh, relaxing him as it washed away the tiny aches and pains.

Sam looked down at his battered body, checking the yellowish skin on his shoulder and chest, finding a trail that led down his inner thigh to his leg and then to his right ankle and over his foot. He had taken the tape off his toes a few days ago and as long as he had on shoes he could walk on his wrapped ankle and foot without too much pain.

It had been nearly two weeks since his tumble down the stairs and he was healing. Most things were just a dull ache now, an annoyance more then anything, except his back. It hurt like a bitch if he sat too long, laid down too long, walked around too much. 

He still took the pain pills at night, just so he could get some rest, but during the day it was manageable. He did the stretching exercises from the sheet the doctor gave him and he swam in the pool everyday to keep his muscles loose and pliable. At night while Dean worked out in the gym, complaining that he had gained weight from sitting around and watching his little brother turn interesting shades of green and yellow, Sam would get in the hot tub and soak…using the new swim trunks Dean had gotten him from the Walmart. 

Good thing there wasn’t one of those in every town they went to. Dean was addicted to shopping there, gushing about the best prices and always leaving with more then he went in to get.

“Let’s go, Sammy. Times a wasting.” His brother was packing up their things, doing another circuit of the room before taking another load of stuff to the Impala.

He was reluctant to get out from under the spray, but he got out and dried off, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. His things were already in the toiletry case, so all he had to do was toss in his toothbrush and deodorant. 

It was easier getting dressed today, but his back still pulled painfully as he bent to put on his shoes. 

“You ready?” Dean seemed impatient, ready to move on, not used to being in one place for so long. “Bobby’s expecting us in two days.”

He opened the door, letting Dean take the case from his hands. “I’m ready.”

They walked down the short hall and to the car. Sam slid into the front seat, a little worried about traveling since he hadn’t been in a car for awhile, not looking forward to spending the trip cramped and hunched in the seat.

He tucked the weighted pillow that Dean had gotten him behind his back and settled in, finding a comfortable spot.

Dean turned the key over and the engine roared to life, the motor sending vibrations through the car and into his bones, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling…he had almost forgotten the deep rumble their car made, the solid weight of it, the safety that it had always represented to Sam. 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Dean put the car into gear and they drove out of town and into the bright sunlight of the early morning. For awhile they sat in silence but Sam reached forward and turned on the radio, hitting the scan button until he found a classic rock station. Dean turned the volume up and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird’ blasted from the speakers.

It felt good to be back on the open road even with the occasional pot hole. Dean had already stopped more than usual, getting gas, or taking bathroom breaks, stopping for lunch at a sit down restaurant, picking up snacks at various Mini Marts and even finding a specialty candy shop where Dean bought a huge bag of green M & M peanuts for himself and a canister of Sour Gummies for Sam.

It was still early evening when they had stopped, but for once Sam was happy to call it a night. He got his shower and lay out on the lumpy mattress, flipping channels while Dean ran to the corner bar to order some food. 

They should make it to Bobby’s by late afternoon the next day and Sam was looking forward to getting his hands on some of the man’s books. He had been looking into some obscure references for demon omens and wanted to see what he could find in Bobby’s library to correlate the information.

Dean came banging into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot. “Daddy’s home,” he called as Sam tried to pull himself up. He felt a slight twinge in his back, the muscles between his shoulder blades tensing, but he breathed through it as Dean pulled out the varies containers from his bag, the aroma of beef wafting though the room and making his stomach rumble.

“You okay, man?”

He finally got to his feet, rolling his shoulder forward. “Yeah…just a little stiff.” This wasn’t new, but he hoped it wouldn’t keep occurring. He never knew when he was gonna have a flair up but it was still pretty early in the healing process. 

After dinner he went back to his bed, arranging the pillow and pulling up his covers. It was maddening that he was still tiring easily, but he knew he had to be patient, he couldn’t rush it this time.

“I’m gonna head back to the bar, see if I can get a hand of poker started. Call me if you need me.”

“Uh huh.” His eyes were already closed and he heard Dean move around the room before padding to the door and closing it softly behind him.

He didn’t know how long he had been sleeping, but the sharp pain shooting up his back had him jackknifing in the bed. The muscles of his back were seizing and it took his breath away, his brain unable to compute all the incoming stimuli. Nerve endings were firing, feeling raw and ragged and he clenched his fists, trying to get up. 

“Ah…mmmm…oh, god.”

Fire erupted in his back and he flailed around, rolling off the bed and hitting his head on the way down. Stars zipped behind his tightly closed eyes and nausea rolled through his gut. 

At some point he thought he heard someone calling his name and then gentle hands were on him, rolling him to his back and trying to straighten his legs, grasping his hands

Something nudged his mouth, pressing them open and dropping something in and his head was lifted and a cup pressed to his lips. He drank, swallowing down what he knew were pills and tried to keep breathing.

The hard floor below him helped with the pain and once the drugs started to work he breathed easier. When he opened his eyes, Dean loomed over him, eyes soft and he was still talking. Sam finally tuned in to hear a litany of apologies. “I’m sorry, man…I got ya now...shouldn’t have left.”

He shook his head, feeling like it was wobbling on his neck, but he managed to push Dean’s hands away. “Not your fault. I’m the idiot who fell asleep before taking my meds.”

Some time later he felt he could pick his ass up off the floor. It felt a little better to be standing, but getting to that point hadn’t been too fun. Dean held him tight under his arms and then wrapped his arms around him once he was on his feet.

“You want the bed?” Knowing that it would be up to Sam to decide, because sometimes it felt better to sit on the chair and sometimes he would lean against the wall. 

He rocked on his heels, thinking about trying to walk off the spasm, but his ankle was aching and his head hurt. Finally he nodded his head and Dean eased him to his stomach and got the new electric heating pad out and laid it over a towel and across his back.

The heat helped, penetrating into his muscles and then he felt firm strokes across his shoulders. _What the hell?_ “Um, Dean?”

“Just go with it, man. It’ll help and I’m good at it.”

He snickered at his brother’s confidence, but he couldn’t deny that the deft fingers were finding all his knotted muscles and working them loose. Dean worked his back, lifting the heating pad to massage a group of muscles, kneading the flesh than returning the heat.

He hadn’t wanted to, but he fell asleep that way and in the morning he was still on his stomach, drooling into his pillow.

It still hurt to move, but he managed to get to his side and then his back. The room was still dark, but Dean was no where in sight. He was just contemplating going to the bathroom when the door opened, bring in the sun light with it. Dean stood in the doorway for few seconds then shut it behind him.

“Feeling better today?” Dean dropped a pastry bag on the table between the beds, picking up Sam’s pill bottles. He popped the caps and shook out one from each.

Sam shifted up against the headboard, happy and a little surprised that the few twinges he felt were mild and manageable. “Ah, yeah…thanks.”

He dropped the pills into Sam’s hand and got him a water bottle. It almost felt like a step backwards having to take a pain pill in the morning, but there was no way in hell he’d be able to ride in the car without a little fortification.

He swallowed them down as Dean opened the bag, handing Sam a chocolate chip muffing and stuffing a donut into his own mouth. “I called Bobby and told him we were gonna hold up here a few days…”

“No. We don’t need…”

His brother turned on him them, clearly pissed as he said, “Oh, yes we do. You’re hurting and the last thing you need is to be cooped up in the car all freaking day.” 

Sam raised a hand, trying to defuse the situation. “I’m fine Dean.” Before his brother could cut him off he forged on. “Listen, I know you’re worried, but my back is still healing, these things could happen, but we don’t need to change our routine...”

“How about you let me be the judge of that? You’re not the one…” but he snapped his lips shut and Sam knew he said more than he wanted to stay.

Sam understood. 

In their line of work, things could go south fast and he knew Dean was still feeling a little guilty that he had failed to equal up to his own standards, he had somehow failed to protect Sam, like it was Dean’s job to keep him safe. But to Sam, it didn’t work that way, it couldn’t.

They had to depend on each other for so many things, but especially to watch each other’s backs, so he said. “It’s not your fault Dean.”

“I know that, Sammy. The whole situation sucked.” His brother sank onto the other bed, looking a little tired, a little worn down. “It’s just I don’t like it, man. We were unprepared; we were working blind and didn’t even know it.”

“That’s the job.” Sam told him. “Like it or not, if we’re gonna help people, if we’re gonna find that thing that killed mom, killed Jess…we gotta just keep going. Do the best we can.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough anymore.” 

He couldn’t stand to see that look on Dean’s face, couldn’t stand the slump of his brother’s shoulders. “Dean, man…I appreciate everything you do for me, but you can’t protect me.” Dean looked up, a hard glint to his eye. “I mean it, man. We’re partners, we look after each other. I can’t be out there, doing the job and be worrying about you worrying about me.”

“What the hell. Make some sense, would ya, Sam.”

“You know what I’m talking about here. You know that ever since Dad handed me to you and told you to get us out of the house, you have made it your personal mission to look after me and I love you for it Dean, I do…but I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of myself.”

Dean’s sighed, looking at him in a way that only Dean could. “I know you can Sam…I just worry about you okay? I don’t like seeing you hurting and even though you’re a big boy, you’re still my little brother.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Dean would always be his big brother, that was never gonna change. 

“Listen, if you’re dead set on getting to Bobby’s today and getting you geeky freak on I guess we can take it slow and see what happens.” Dean reached into his bag and plucked another donut out, breaking off a piece and shoving it in his mouth. “But no complaining about how many breaks we take. No whining about the greasy spoon we eat lunch at and no research until after you take a nap.”

“Dean…”

“Those are the conditions, kid. Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”

_And how could he refuse._

The open road before them…The smell of cow hide and gun oil…Researching endless news clipping and scouring the internet...the feel of his gun at the small of his back…killing evil.

Those things were his life now, but Dean…

Dean was home.

The End


End file.
